


Smoke in the eyes

by sepherim_ml



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Community: spn_j2_xmas, Incest, M/M, SPN J2 Secret Santa, Spanking, Weechesters, dubcon, hurt!Dean, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepherim_ml/pseuds/sepherim_ml
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>'Good boy'</i> are the words Dean wants to hear the most from his Dad. He tried everything to please him, but only when he makes a mistake that almost cost Sam, Dad finally acknowledge him. And Dean has every intention to hear those words again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke in the eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reapertownusa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapertownusa/gifts).



**Pairings:** John/Dean (dubcon), Viktor Henricksen/Dean  
 **Warnings** : parental incest, dubcon, spanking (for discipline), a dash of weechesters and underage, angst, hurt!Dean (only emotionally).

**A/N** : Thanks so much to the lovely [daevanna](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/js/ck/) for her beta skills <3  
This is written for [reapertownusa](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/js/ck/) for Christmas and I cannot believe spn_j2_xmas mods have given me this amazing author! I really really really hope I didn't screwed this up! Happy holidays and enjoy this little present! <3  
  


Dad's gone again. It's been three weeks now and Dad called for the last time a few days ago, hanging up as soon as Dean reassured him that he'd got money enough for a couple of days.  
  
It's fine, really, Dean can handle this, he's used to Dad's frequent disappearing, but looking at the stash of money quickly getting smaller is disheartening, especially considering Sam's wish to go on the school trip to the museum a couple of towns over. Dean needs to figure something out, maybe ask Jim; his boss at the mechanic shop, to let him do some other shifts.  
  
Sam is studying now, his books and notebooks are scattered all over the table in the kitchen, his head bowed and his attention completely focused on the biology assignment that took him almost all afternoon to figure out.  
  
Looking at Sam's hair getting in front of his eyes makes Dean cringe.  
  
The kid needs a haircut. Dean puts it in his mental list of things to do that he updates daily, trying to figure out how to juggle everything - Sam's and dad's well being, the hunts, being a good son and brother in general -. But of course, Sam comes first.  
  
He moves from the counter to the fridge as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb Sam too much. He grabs the OJ and pours a glass for his brother, thanking whoever may be listening for the little job at the local groceries store where he works on the weekends. The pay is shit, but Dean gets to bring home out-of-date products and it's not that bad, it means that Sam can have food every day.  
  
Sam nods distractedly when Dean puts the glass on the table, then goes back to his studying. Despite the occasional small frown that appears on his forehead, judging from the pleased expression that follows, there's no doubt that Sam is enjoying his complicated maths problems or biology assignments or chemistry papers even if they are hard to figure out.  
  
Dean wonders if Sam got his love of books from Mom, 'cause he certainly didn't take after Dad. Dean himself isn't fond of books and study at all , and he doesn't even have time anyway, but he understands that if Sam wants something in his life then he chooses freely.  
  
Life on the road is tough, especially for Sam who doesn't have memory of their home. When Dad left them alone for the first time in a motel room, Dean clutched little Sammy tightly and swore that he'd do his best to give him everything to have him safe and sound. And happy. To the best of his abilities. Years later, some days it's the only thing that lets Dean keep going on without falling apart.  
  
Dean looks down to the stash of money. He has ten bucks for sending Sam to that school trip he won't shut up about. Those ten bucks need to be twenty if Dean's counted correctly, including the food expenses.  
  
It's eight o'clock, Sam can handle a couple of hours alone.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
"No one. Understood, Sammy?" He puts on his leather jacket, pulling up the lapel. Dean looks at the sorry excuse for a mirror that they have in the bathroom, thinking that he still doesn't have the same rugged look that dad has, only soft features and long, curled eyelashes, something he doesn't really want at all.  
  
Sammy rolls his eyes, bored. "I know, Dean. It's not the first time I'm alone, you know? And I'm thirteen, not five."  
  
Dean doesn't resist and ruffles his hair, Sam ducks and moves away, but Dean misses that easy camaraderie. Yeah, Sammy is all grown up, but he'll always be the kid of the family.  
  
"Ok, a couple of hours and I'll be back, don't wait up."  
  
Sam emits a strangle sound that seems more like a sigh and gets back to his homework. Dean casts one last look back before going to the groceries store and picking up the last shift.  
  
Hours later, when Dean grasps twenty bucks in his right hand, he's more than excited to come back to their pathetic excuse of a rented house, wake Sam up (though Sam would probably still be up watching the Discovery Channel) and give him the good news. He'd better learn something on that school trip, considering how much Dean had to put up with for him in the groceries store. Especially when he had to deal with too many weird dudes that asked him, more than once; horny as hell, how much it would be for a blowjob or a quick fuck in the alley. Dean almost knocked their teeth out.  
  
The house is dark and that is strange enough because Sam is always up when Dean is out working. He likes to wait - or he tries to - for his brother, even if there is an important paper assignment due the day after, it's always been Sammy's personal of looking out for Dean.  
  
Dean speeds up, almost running the last few steps, and opens the door.  
  
"Sammy? Sammy!"  
  
No one answers.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Cold sweat is trickling down his neck whilst Dean sits down on the cold bench in the parking lot of the police station, waiting for Dad to come and fix the biggest mistake Dean had made in his entire life. They  _have_  to get Sam back, there is no way they can let him stay in the police station for a night, ready to be put in the hands of the social services the day after.  
  
Roughly, Dean manages to collect the information from one of the neighbours; 'yes, there was a loud shooting sound in the neighbourhood. Someone called the police. A kid was seen with a shotgun with salt bullets in his hands, trying to get away. They took him when no adult was found in the house. The kid fought with them tooth and nail, before being led to the police car'.  
  
Dean tried very hard not to panic and he ran through all of Dad's numbers that he remembered, before getting a curt answer from one of them. When Dean explained the situation, Dad was on the Impala driving to town, ordering Dean to keep an eye on the police station. Of course, as much as Dean wanted, he didn't go in to Sam, instead he waited impatiently for his Dad to come and fix everything.  
  
When the familiar purr of the Impala fills the silence of the night, Dean stands up, his teeth clattering for the nervousness and the hidden adrenaline. John's face is dark and his eyes barely mask the rage when he gets out of the car and walks towards his first-born.  
  
"Dad, I –"  
  
"We'll talk later," replies John. "I'll go and get Sammy, then you can explain why you're so incapable of looking out for your own brother."  
  
The disappointment in Dad's voice cuts Dean like a knife; it's a physical scar, carved into his skin, deep and bleeding. He bows his head, acknowledging his stupid mistake and hopes that Dad can fix his mess. Then he'll have to ask for forgiveness.  
  
Even if Dean knows he doesn't deserve it.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
It turns out that Sam fired his shotgun at a vengeful spirit infesting the house. The shooting was enough to draw the attention of the neighbours and the police were called, taking Sam into custody while they were waiting for social services to come and take him to another, more suitable, facility.  
  
Dad arrives just in time.  
  
He introduces himself as a fed and takes Sam into custody to bring him to another facility in the nearest town where he could be processed as the kid of an alcoholic now convicted to jail and put up for foster care.  
  
When John closes the door of the Impala, Dean almost jumps out of his skin. He is in the back seat with Sammy curled up against him and his crazy heartbeat pressed against Dean's shoulder, mute for once, while he looks at him like he doesn't blame Dean. John didn't say a word, he drives out of the parking lot, out of town and leaves the state.  
  
Dean keeps Sam tucked up against him the entire drive.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
They take two rooms in an isolated motel on their way to Iowa and Dean knows that it's time for his lecture. John barks to Sam to leave Dean and him alone, stares at his oldest son with a disappointed and angry look that makes Dean shiver. Sam is unamused. He talks back, protests and yells, but when he sees Dean's hunched shoulders and hears him defending Dad like always, he goes to the other rented room yelling "I hate you!" addressed to both of them and leaves them alone. Dean is prepared for the lecture, he knows he deserves it, but when it comes, Dad's words burn like fiery tongues on his skin.  
  
It's not the only thing that burns on his skin that night.  
  
  
*  
  
  
After what seems like  _hours_  later, Dean sobs and presses his face against the pillow. His strained position has made his arms go almost numb, raised over his head and tied with Dad's belt around the headboard of the squeaky bed where Dean is on all fours, naked, ass tilted up and cherry red after a session of vicious spanking.  
  
Words weren't enough for what Dean did this time.  
  
John made him strip off his clothes and tie his wrists together, then, proceeded to spank him good and proper, like a misbehaving, stupid kid, humiliating him with his harsh and cruel words.  
  
In the end, Dean is a pile of sobs, his ass itching and hurting, his back, shoulders and hand numb, but he feels better when Dad praises him for having taken the punishment unexpectedly well. Maybe this pain is worth something. Maybe this lesson in life will teach Dean to be smarter and better. Maybe one day Dad will say to him that he's a good son, after all.  
  
"Did you learn something today, Dean?" asks his Dad with a slurred voice.  
  
Dean looks at the wall in front of him. "Yes, sir. Never leave Sam alone. Always protect him."  
  
"Do I have to spank you to make you understand that family is everything and you  _must_  look out for Sammy?"  
  
Dean's cheeks flush. "No, sir."  
  
John moves around behind him and Dean expects him to free his hands, but, instead, he drops a knee onto the bed and Dean freezes, well aware that his Dad has just unzipped his jeans.  
  
A hand smacks against the red right cheek of his ass, but this time it doesn't let go.  
  
"Dad?"  
  
"It's your fault, Dean," comes John's voice, deep and husky. Sweat trickles down Dean's forehead and spine and he tugs helplessly at the handmade handcuffs. John squeezes the red flesh, sensing the tension building up under his hand. "On all fours, legs spread, ass tilted up. You're asking for it. Accept the consequences and don't act like a girl."  
  
"Dad, no, please –"  
  
A finger pokes at his entrance and Dean's words die in his throat. It's just a soft touch, a gentle stroke, but he's shocked by his dad's words and attentions as much as he's soaked in his own vulnerability and helplessness.  
  
Is this really happening?  
  
The finger enters him slowly, breaching an otherwise virgin hole, and Dean opens his mouth into a silent scream. It's not like dad's finger is dry, it's slicked with something – gun oil, maybe? –, it's the bluntness of the intrusion that hurts. Dad works his finger in and out, creating a friction that Dean discovers he enjoys.  
  
Dean finds himself starting to press back onto the finger, he realises it only when the sting of his stretched and cuffed arms interrupt his pleasure. He stiffens, then, and widens his eyes, looking at his trapped hands. He is –?  
  
"Don't act like you don't want it. You're practically begging for it."  
  
 _Fuck._  It's true. He's begging for his dad.  
  
Tears of humiliation gather in his eyes, but Dean refuses to let them wet his face, he raises his chin and turns his head towards his dad. He can be a good son, he can be the good soldier dad wants. He can take this and make it good for his dad and dad will forgive him.  
  
"Please, dad."  
  
Dean does everything he can to enjoy it and he does, really, even when dad pounds him hard and fast and Dean whimpers, grabbing his restraints and spreading his legs.  
  
The pleasure comes and Dean blanks out, John rests on Dean's sweated back, panting and satisfied, and he whispers into his ear: "Good boy."  
  
It's everything Dean has been waiting for.  
  
A slow smile spreads across his face.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
After that one time, John doesn't fuck him any more. Dean catches him giving him lingering looks, lust mixed with guilt and desire, but tries hard to act normal, like he hasn't fucked his own son after he spanked the hell out of him.  
  
Dean does what he is told; takes care of Sam, works here and there, tries to be a good son and brother. Dad doesn't acknowledge his efforts, like always, and he never gives him the same, soft look that gifted him after he came inside of him.  
  
Dean is  _hungry_. He wants his dad's attention, his affection, but, most of all, his approval. He received all of it that night, and Dean wants to have that again. He wants to know that he's not invisible and he can do something right, for once.  
  
He takes care of Sam, but it's never enough. He looks out for Dad when he hunts, but he's not the best partner. He looks out for Dad when he's drunk and full of bitterness, but Dean cannot give him any kind of real relief. Anything he does, is not good enough to be considered or acknowledged. In the past, it was fine, because Dean was used to it – he craved it, he looked for it, but he knew that he could never set things straight the way his brother and dad wanted –, but now that Dean had received the approval of his Dad?  
  
The memory of the act fills Dean's head full of twisted thoughts and leads him to believe that maybe, just maybe, if he's finally doing a good thing, there's no reason to stop doing it.  
  
That's the reason why Dean decides to take the lead and seduce his own father – coy looks, inappropriate bending – until John can't resist him any more.  
  
One day when Sam is still in school, John crowds him against the wall of his bedroom and kisses the hell of out of him.  
  
When he pulls his mouth away from Dean's, their lips smack from the sudden movement. Dean watches his father's face crunch into something that looks like regret, then anger, and in the end it settles into resignation.  
  
"Go to bed," his voice is rough but when his thumb caresses Dean's bottom lip, his eyes drop and Dean sees a weak man in the shoes of his big, damn hero. He can't let this happen. It's not what he's after.  
  
He sits on the bed, undressing himself slowly, his eyes darting from the floor to his father, then to the abandoned pile of clothes on the floor. Naked, he lays down on the bed, his legs slightly open. After a moment of indecision, he bends his legs and opens them, clearly inviting his dad to do what he wants with him.  
  
"Take me like this. I want to see you," he confesses, a red blush colouring his cheeks.  
  
Dad lets out a strangled noise and almost immediately undresses himself, covering Dean with his body and claiming his lips in another, bruising kiss. The younger hunter melts in his arms, moaning in contentment, careless of what he's resembling outside, but yielding to have Dad taking care of him and finding his pleasure in him.  
  
"You're so –"  
  
Dean doesn't like compliments, he finds them silly and unmanly. John himself is stopping his endearments before they slip out of his mouth, and looks abashed, as if Dean found him doing something prohibited. They recover quickly, and John roughly prepares Dean with his big fingers, plunging in deep, before penetrating him with excruciating slowness.  
  
He grabs Dean's hips and aligns himself better, pounding into him deep and relentlessly. Dean moans, almost screams, when Dad strokes over his prostrate again and again with his cock. He almost comes but a hand grips his dick at the base, trying to fight off his orgasm. Dean mewls and struggles, but when John's eyes warn him not to fight him, the young man surrenders altogether.  
  
In the end, when John comes inside him, he lets him come too and he gives an approving smile, exactly the one he was hoping for.  
  
"Good boy."  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
Everything settles into a routine. John takes Dean's acceptance as a way to relax, and Dean takes those fucks as a way to prove himself to his Dad, and receive the usual compliment at the end of all. Some days he feels like he's  _living_  for that compliment. It's sick and Dean knows that, but he cannot deny what he's craving.  
  
It doesn't take long for Sam to figure out what's going on. He has always been the smart one in the family, it would have been an insult to underestimate his ability to pick up on things quickly. He confronts Dad, though, he doesn't come to Dean. He sides with his brother with that sense of loyalty and misplaced distrust that hurt Dean more than anything because, fuck, his twelve year old brother doesn't seem to think that Dean is smart enough to make his own decisions, that the whole thing is Dad's fault. Sam centres the problem, of course, - Dean knows that what he's doing with his father is wrong, but he's so starving for his attention that he's willing to get humiliated.  
  
Everything is fine until Sam can't stand them any more and leaves for Stanford.  
  
He asks Dean to come with him, to let his Dad go on his own, twisted road to revenge, to leave him to his own devices, to free himself from his influence. But Dean refuses. Or, more exactly, he doesn't answer (he cannot really say 'no' to Sammy, nor choose between his own brother and father) but Sam understands and lets him go.  
  
Dad fucks Dean for days on the bed that was once Sam's. He spanks his ass cherry red, then fucks the hell out of him all night long, blaming him for having driven Sam away. Dean takes everything, from the spanking to the fucking, without struggling too much, part because he's trained to, partly because, of course, he needs to.  
  
 _It's okay_ , he keeps saying when he lays spent on the sheets, taking John's humiliating words without a protest.  _It's okay, as long as Dad stays with me._  
  
Then, one morning, Dad says they should go separate ways; he leaves him the Impala, he says that Dean needs to man up. And then he leaves him, still naked and covered in come on the bed.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
It's Christmas day and Dean is stuck in a bar alone, smelling cheap perfume, booze and smoke. He's got a bottle of Jack for Dad in the truck of the Impala as a gift, but Dad hasn't called in weeks and Dean has got that  _itch_  on his skin that almost consumes him. He hasn't heard from Sam since he went through the scene with Dad, making a big show off of his departure, and Dean misses his brother and misses taking care of him, even though he refuses to be the first to call.  
  
He looks around and he finds somebody with a dark face and the traces of a long day at work. The black guy is downing his beer like he's fucking thirsty, but when he catches Dean's stare he stops. When he puts down the beer, Dean notices that the guy has a gun, a pair of handcuffs looped in his belt and he's dressed with a suit. Great.  _A fed_. Merry Christmas.  
  
Then, another thought crosses Dean's mind; the idea of those metal circles around his wrist, tied to the headboard of some cheap motel, while the fed is spanking his ass and fucking him. It clouds his mind and Dean finds his jeans are suddenly much too tight.  
  
He smirks at the guy. He takes his glass of whisky, walks across the room and sits next to him. Dean knows exactly what kind of look he can use to have exactly what he needs and, along with his sweet talk and pouty lips.  
  
The fed presses him against the wall outside the bar, right in the middle of a dirty alley, less than twenty minutes after.  
  
The kiss is rough, demanding and surprisingly hot.  
  
Dean feels all tingly when a well-toned body presses him closer against the cold wall and his half-hard cock brushes against his thighs covered only with a pair of jeans.  
  
"I've got a motel room not far from here, you can keep it in your pants 'til we get there, ya think?" asks Dean cockily.  
  
The guy smiles knowingly. "Lead the way."  
  
They fuck harshly and unforgiving. The fed cuffs him to the bed and spanks him relentlessly, making him scream and moan, making Dean feel alive and whole again. Exactly what he needs.  
  
Christmas day has never been so sweet; for one day, Dean can forget Sammy and Dad and the void inside his chest. The fed doesn't use cruel words, but endearing ones, and Dean finds it funny that a guy like him calls him 'baby', but, deep inside, he likes that. It's been too long since Dad has said that he's a good boy.  
  
So, when Dean lays on the bed, spent and fucked, his ass throbbing, his thighs wet and his wrists red, Dean thinks that maybe he can be this man's good boy. And from the way the man – SA Victor Henricksen, as he introduced himself – looks at him, Dean thinks the answer is yes.


End file.
